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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29295774">Doomed (But Just Enough)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromjannah/pseuds/jannah'>jannah (fromjannah)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Gods &amp; Goddesses, Blood God Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), and this is just an exploration of that, dream is also a god, he's just a god, hehe get it execution, no beta we die like wilbur, not actually RPF, phil is a demigod sort of, there were some good ideas here but the execution sucked lol, this is honestly not great but whatever</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:41:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,852</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29295774</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromjannah/pseuds/jannah</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After an attempted execution, a blood god looks back on his lengthy life and what had got him here.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Doomed (But Just Enough)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This one's scuffed as hell, but we'll go with it. The mythology is based mostly on Greek stuff but I kept it vague enough for you to make your own allusions or whatever. </p><p>Title is from "Church" by Fall Out Boy because I'm emo. </p><p>This is an AU about the characters of the SMP, not the real people. Felt like that should be said.</p><p>Enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In hindsight, the fact that Techno had been hauled off to an executionwas somewhat embarrassing, but he soothed his deeply wounded ego with the sweet, sweet memory of the look on everyone in poorly named Butcher's Army's faces when the anvil fell to no avail. There was nothing like it, he had realized over his rather lengthy life.</p><p>It had been a good while since Techno had been taken to an execution. There had been a few unsavory crucifixions over the centuries and the odd death penalty every so often, but really, it had been some time.  </p><p>He wondered, briefly, if something about the whole ordeal could've cued the members of his current world to his true nature: the obvious death that never was, how he had killed Quackity in only iron armor. But that was preposterous, he knew; mortals were nothing if not dense. They laughed off <em>Technoblade never dies </em>as a simple jest. It had all been in front of their eyes the whole time.</p><p>The voices hummed their approval at the bloodshed; they had become sullen and unhappy over the lack in the last few months. <em>Retirement</em>. Techno scoffed at the idea. How foolish he had been. He has seen it hundreds and hundreds of time -- a government was terrible for the people. </p><p><em>Blood for the blood god</em>, cried the voices in satisfaction amongst various other things that he would never understand.</p><p>Techno looked down at the healing injuries in his side, slowly stitching together as he rode his horse steadily off to the arctic. He'd been all healed by the time he arrived.</p><p>---</p><p>The voices were all a curse, caused by his own pride. He had been a warrior and not even fully godly, only having some traces of the divine in his bloodline -- so many did, back in those days, most of the gods were not known for their abstinence. But he had wanted more, he had wanted so much. He used his fierce ambition to get himself recognized by hoards of people, performing various acts of skill. Soon people had started calling upon the Blade in battle for strength, which was near blasphemy. </p><p>The gods felt challenged by him. Even all these years later, he couldn't bring himself to feel guilty for that; really, it had been the height of his life. He had fought the one of the gods of war in battle, some manipulative strategist who had a big head and never showed his face. Techno had won.</p><p>The gods could've executed him; they should've, really. But his family's patron god argued for him to instead be immortalized as one of the minor gods.</p><p>He hadn't planned for that. Technoblade simply wanted to be remembered, maybe poke fun at the gods some, be known far and wide. But he took the opportunity eagerly. It was not unheard of, in those days, to be a god's chosen one, but it wasn't exactly common. It wasn't like he was a <em>major </em>god, but he was immortal, he had patron animals (pigs and boars), he could call up rudimentary glamours for himself, and that was more than enough. He didn't even desire to go up to the gods' court -- he felt more at home down with mortals, strangely enough.</p><p>But the voices -- the voices were a curse, given to him by the god he had dueled against, an ultimatum for immortality. Every warrior who died calling Technoblade's name in battle, their spirit would be doomed to follow their forsaken god. It sounded like an honor to a worshipper. It was not, as the worshippers and the god both soon learned.</p><p>Technoblade as a god was, ironically, more or less forgotten, so voices hadn't joined his head in a while. The fact that he had went underground and to a new cluster of worlds so as to not be questioned about his very strange lifespan every few decades did not exactly make more voices join. This was the first time in centuries that he had dared to make a name for himself again -- and with his true name, no less. </p><p>When most people heard of Technoblade now a days, they thought of the fierce warrior who had a strange penchant for farming potatoes, not the long-forgotten extremely minor god of bloodshed and battle. He had been shoved to history's smallest margins, and it was easier that way. People didn't believe in the gods anymore, but they could believe in great warriors.</p><p>There were some exceptions, however. Like Phil.</p><p>Techno had met the man maybe a decade prior to joining Dream's world. He vividly recalled stating his name in an introduction, which resulted in Phil smiling slightly.</p><p>"Like one of the war gods of old," he had stated, perhaps a little wistful. Techno had barely hid his surprise that Phil knew that, stammering some lie about his family liking old names and that no one recognized them, which made the winged man laugh. He explained, "My parents were traditionalists. Liked their history."</p><p>It wasn't a complete lie, Techno learned later on: Phil was the son of a sky spirit and a mortal, he had confessed -- rare for those days. By that time, Phil had already figured out Techno's true identity. </p><p>Oddly enough, Techno didn't feel betrayed at learning this -- part of him knew that he should've recognized the signs, dismissing wings as just some new hybrid thing was just wilful ignorance. Rather, it gave him a sense of companionship. Phil was a millennia younger than Techno (though Techno's current glamour made him look a bit younger), and he hadn't seen as much, but he still often understood the complicated emotions that came with... existing.</p><p>Phil's sons didn't quite get it, even though they were each a quarter sky spirit -- Phil hadn't told them about their heritage until later -- but Techno had begrudgingly enjoyed their companionship as well. </p><p>The other recent exception was Dream.</p><p>Techno had known of Dream, his extraordinary rise to fame, and his tumultuous world's troubles, but he had never really known the truth until their duel.</p><p>Techno had recognized Dream's fighting style immediately, right from round one -- how he favored a shield but still was quick to go to the offense, how he was skilled with an axe and seemed to expect Techno's unconventional fishing rod usage. </p><p>"You haven't changed at all," Dream had said through forcibly measured breathing as he laid an axe to Techno's throat.</p><p>Techno's grin had been fierce, despite his fatigue catching up with him. "I'll beat you again and again." </p><p>His old foe, his reason for immortality, back amongst mortals, had been defeated once more. This kind of irony had been beautifully, beautifully sweet. </p><p>Techno hadn't expected any other exceptions, but one other strange thing did come up: Ranboo.</p><p>He had been around long enough to recognize a strange presence, one that didn't fit in the careful puzzle work of mortal fate. Chances are that he was wrong and it was just the Enderman thing, but Technoblade had met halflings and hybrids before, and his gut said something was up. Or maybe it was just the voices constantly repeating <em>Tsundereblade </em>whenever Ranboo was around. </p><p>"Follow up main character question," he asked the kid gruffly as they were both checking up on the greenhouse for Phil. It had been a few days since the whole main character conversation, but Ranboo didn't seem to mind, possibly because he didn't have a spine. "You're half Enderman and half... what?" </p><p>Ranboo cleared his throat. "Uh, again, not sure... my memory, it's, uh, it's kind of weird." </p><p>Techno studied him skeptically. "Right, right," he said.</p><p>He'd keep looking into that. Demigods were valuable allies and difficult enemies, even for a god.</p><p>---</p><p><em>"Hello, Technoblade!"</em> called Wilbur's ghost cheerfully outside the cabin in the arctic as Techno was doing some inventory a couple weeks after the whole execution ordeal. </p><p>Techno looked up from where he was checking enchantments and pushed open the door from his position on the floor. "Hello, Wilbur," he said, putting on some cheer in his voice for the sake of Phil's son. </p><p><em>"How're you -- how're you doing?</em>" queried the ghost brightly. Techno had interacted with ghosts a handful of times, but to be completely honest, they always had unnerved him, just a little bit. Ghosts had seen the afterlife, something not even many gods knew about -- certainly not one like Techno, who had changed the afterlife for hoards of worshippers because of his curse. </p><p>"Doin' fine, doin' fine," Techno said absently. "You?"</p><p>
  <em>"I -- I've been doing some reading, actually. I was looking at a book about history here on the world but then I found this old one! It was really interesting..."</em>
</p><p>Techno nodded along, only half-listening as he polished his armor until the ghost said eagerly, <em>"And then in these old stories -- I found an old warrior named Technoblade! Just like you! Isn't that funny? I thought it was really cool."</em></p><p>Techno stopped in the middle of his work, looking up slowly at Wilbur's ghost for any hint of suspicion but didn't find any of his blankly cheerful face. "Uh huh, really?" he decided on asking. </p><p>
  <em>"Yeah! Hold on, I took out a page from the book." </em>
</p><p>A translucent hand took out a crumpled piece of paper that had clearly been torn out from a book, unfolding it delicately and placing it in front of Techno. It was a picture of some old pottery with a figure holding a sword up. It wasn't too clear, but the figure had a head similar to a boar, like the skull Techno had worn to battle, ages and ages ago. He didn't anymore. He traced a calloused finger over the paper, lightly mesmerized. </p><p><em>Cringe</em>, declared the voices in a clamor. </p><p>Techno briefly rolled his eyes at that. "That's cool, Wilbur. You sure you should've torn out that page, though?" </p><p>The ghost's bright beam darkened some at this. "<em>Oh. No, probably not. Ah. Okay, I'll go figure out how to put it back. Buh-bye, Technoblade!"</em></p><p>Wilbur's ghost didn't even take the paper. Techno opened his mouth and then shut it, taking the piece of paper in a careful hand. </p><p>Techno had wondered if Wilbur, when he was alive, had suspected his godhood. While Phil younger son Tommy had inherited the quick agility of sky spirits, Wilbur had instead seemed to get the eery knack for observation of the sky creatures. Techno had never been confronted about it directly, but as the mortal had gotten older, he always felt like Wilbur just <em>knew</em>. Techno remembered finding one of Phil's old mythology books in his old home, open right on a page of an old Renaissance painting of war gods, Technoblade himself, portrayed with a pig's head, tucked into the corner.</p><p>His ghost, however, apparently did not know. Or maybe he was just being polite, not pushing for an answer. </p><p>Ignoring the voices, Technoblade put the torn paper in a chest under some other materials, carefully hidden but still easy to find. A reminder of his former glory that, for some reason, he couldn't bear to let go.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Kudo, comment, share, and subscribe to Technoblade, friends. Thanks for reading.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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